


Let Me Do This For You

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: BODY WORSHIPPING IS MY FAVE TBH, First Time Sex, M/M, porn ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:45:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for "I want a fic where Enjolras and Grantaire have sex for the first time, but instead of it being wild and passionate as Enjolras expected it, Grantaire just goes painfully slowly. Kissing and touching every inch of Enjolras' body.... The longer the fic/ description of Grantaire "worshipping" Enjolras' body, the better."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Do This For You

“Now, you’re sure I’m not supposed to be doing something?” Enjolras said in a veil of skepticism, and he stared up at Grantaire from his spot on the bed with the blue eyes that Grantaire had so often memorized. 

“Shhh. This is hardly something to be rushed,” Grantaire murmured, taking in the view of Enjolras splayed out on the sheets of his bed; still clothed, yet more beautiful than Grantaire thought was humanly possible. So when Grantaire then decided to kneel next to Enjolras, his body was trembling; not in fear, or in desire, but purely in the overwhelming beauty that was his Enjolras. 

Enjolras tugged at the collar of his shirt uneasily, “Shouldn’t my clothes…”

“Enough,” Grantaire cut him off, flitting the idea away with the flutter of his hand. “Let me do this for you, please.” 

So Enjolras complied, and the nervousness in his eyes seemed to dissolve behind a curtain of trust. 

Grantaire first touched his cheek, lightly, with fingers that handled his skin as if walking on precious eggshells. He felt the diminutive hairs along his jaw that could certainly not be seen from a distance, felt as they bent under his touch and tickled his fingertips. He swept a careful thumb over his lips, the pure, red lips from which Enjolras had spoken fiery words of change and of Revolution. He felt the small groove beneath his nose, touched the dip in his soft skin with his partially callused fingers. He studied with careful focus the dark, thin lashes that fluttered as Enjolras watched him, and he brought a hand back to his cheekbone, caressing, tracing the lines that his cheek led as if he was holding a paintbrush. That is when he dipped down to kiss Enjolras, lighter than a hush, and took a moment to breathe his soul into his love; or try to, at least. His stray fingers found his hairline to trace. 

“Grantaire…” 

Grantaire shushed him again, giving a knowing smile, and reached with shaking fingers to carefully unbutton the uppermost button on his shirt. He watched the rise and fall of his chest as he undid the buttons further and further until his skin was showing through, and the smile on Enjolras’ face made his heart leap. 

He slid the shirt from Enjolras’ shoulders, dragging his palms purposely across his shoulder, memorizing the lines of each muscle, of the warmth of his skin. His chest was free, now, and Grantaire was not surprised, but certainly overwhelmed. 

It was perfect. 

The plains of his chest were smooth and humbly toned, and Grantaire skimmed his fingers along the lines of his muscles to be sure it was entirely real and not just a figment of his imagination. He felt Enjolras’ heartbeat under his palms, a steady, strong rhythm that so greatly reflected his status as a leader. The moment is gentle and captivating, both for Enjolras and for Grantaire, who had started to place soft butterfly kisses along his chest, treating him with care that allowed Enjolras to become momentarily shocked. This was Grantaire. 

He slid his hands down along his waist, tracing the sides of his muscles, feeling the way they contracted with his breathing. He finds Enjolras’ collarbone and gives it a lingering, gentle kiss of the lips, tasting the salt on his skin. He heard his boyfriend shudder, and a smile broke out, lips still pressed softly to his skin. 

Grantaire felt Enjolras’ hand in his hair, then, and he looked up with flickering eyes. Blue eyes stared back; blinking rapidly, and a flush had bloomed on his cheeks. “Apollo, you must learn some form of patience,” he purred, and with a gentle hand, he removed Enjolras’ grasp on his hair. He held it, felt the creases in his fingers and ran his thumb across his palm; and, eventually, took his fingertips to his own mouth. He ran his tongue over them, and he felt the grooves of his nails and the wrinkles in his knuckles. Enjolras’ body shuddered again, and Grantaire grinned at him, giving him back his hand. 

He then adjusted his position carefully, moving away from Enjolras’ spine and making the sudden decision to straddle the man. Gently, of course, with reassurance that what he was doing wouldn’t hurt and that he wouldn’t start anything without letting him know. He was a virgin, after all. 

Propped in a straddle position over his knees, Enjolras watched him, squirming slightly. He ran a gentle finger along the top of his pants, and followed the path of barely-there wavy blonde hairs that pointed in the direction of the Promised Land. “Grantaire,” Enjolras said, deliciously breathless, “Won’t you take your shirt off?” 

Grantaire complied, shrugging out of his looser fitting shirt, feeling slightly self-conscious in the light of Enjolras’ purely angelic sort of beauty. But, whatever Enjolras wanted, Grantaire surely would supply. “Happy now, oh Great Leader?”

“Very.” 

He went back to his meticulous work, staring hungrily at the button on the top of his pants, which he began to undo. His heart thumped in his chest and he felt a burn lowering in his body, slowly. His large, usually clumsy fingers struggled with the small button, but he got it, and his heart funneled lower, lower. 

In a swift gesture, he hooked fingers around Enjolras’ pants and undergarments and pulled them down his thighs. He choked, and the man’s arousal sprung free. 

Apparently, he had taken a few hungry moments to stare, because Enjolras was blushing rather hard, “W-What?” 

Grantaire was murmuring a daze, “You continue to amaze me,” and he diverted his head just right of Enjolras’ length to press a kiss to the man’s hipbone. Resist temptation, Grantaire. Resist it. Enjolras moaned, and that was all the persuasion he needed to continue exploring this beautifully sculpted body. 

He dragged his lips down his thigh, sending hot breaths against his skin and using his free hand to massage the thick muscles of his hips that were twitching rather visibly. He felt the soft, curled hairs that were on his leg, tasted them between his teeth and ran his hand against the grain… Another moan came from Enjolras, and he bucked his hips. Grantaire sprang up in surprise. 

“T-This is what it feels like to be turned on, right...” and a profanity came through gritted teeth, “Shit.” 

And Grantaire is too busy working Enjolras’ pants off to respond, and he runs kisses down every leg, desperate to leave no part of him untouched or not kissed or not praised. But Enjolras is shuddering then, fully hard and very, very turned on; as far as Grantaire could see. Soon, he’s back up straddling Enjolras’ knees, grinning proudly at his work. 

“Get on with it,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire managed to stifle a laugh. 

“If you insist.”

He bowed back down, this time with his head closer to his neck, and he snaked a hand between them, lets his fingers brush down his chest and follow the path of gentle hair until he finally reaches…

“Shit,” Enjolras repeated, and his hips are bucking again, pressing into Grantaire’s strategically placed hand. Grantaire pressed his lips against Enjolras’ collarbone, lapping up the sweat and scent and taste and warmth. He grinned, and he moved his hand up and down the length, slowly, carefully; Enjolras didn’t know what to do. 

“How does that feel?” he murmured carefully, and his voice vibrated against his skin. Enjolras let out a quiet, breathless moan, and Grantaire grinned wider. He painted a masterpiece with his tongue across Enjolras’ chest, and his lover had his hands twisted in the sheets, gripped with such force that his knuckles turned a shade of white. “Not so well-spoken when in my hands, are you?”

Grantaire soaked up the feeling of Enjolras’ cock in his hand, pumping deliciously fast, and the friction grew into heat that clouded between them. He would give a small squeeze, a gentle tug, or would simply roll his length between careful fingers, all the while nibbling on the skin of Enjolras’ neck. Another moan curled through his lips, and Grantaire sucked gently on his shoulder. 

“Grantaire… fuck – I…” Enjolras struggled to speak through gritted teeth. 

And Grantaire, being Grantaire, could not help but to take slight advantage of the situation. He took his hand away, running it along Enjolras’ tight belly, and he could feel the short breaths he was taking by the way his stomach rose and fell. Enjolras looked incredulous. 

“What the… What the hell are you… Your hand! What…” 

“Ask me nicely,” Grantaire purred, and his mouth worked its way up to tug on his earlobe with gentle persistence. Enjolras was having some clear issues placing his thoughts into words; something Grantaire had never before seen him struggle with. 

“I – What? You can’t… No, I need – Fuck,” he panted, and he writhed underneath Grantaire with slight desperation. He worked his hand into the curly rings of his blonde hair, his fingers scrabbling along his scalp, and he flicked his tongue against the man’s neck. 

“You heard me,”

“I…” his words were constantly being cut off in the middle by short, needy moans, and it was freaking music to Grantaire’s ears. “Finish me.”

“Nicely,” 

“Please!” Enjolras gasped, and he could feel Grantaire’s fingers walk down his chest as he pleaded, “F-Fucking let… let me come, please,” and he arched his back so his body mashed against Grantaire’s, their heat growing. 

He couldn’t hold back any longer. He took hold of his cock once again and gave it a rough tug, feeling the skin rub against his hands, and thrust it up and down with a merciless pace much faster than before. Enjolras was moaning loudly, pressing eagerly into his hand and twisting fists into the sheet or into Grantaire’s hair as he bucked his hips. He could hear his own feet struggling to get a grip on the sheets as he writhed, anticipation bubbling in his abdomen like a storm brewing. 

“Come for me,” was what Grantaire whispered into his ear, and that was all it took. Orgasm overtook him like a wave. His eyes rolled back, his mind locked up, sending him spinning, and spinning… Mindless pleasure overtook his body, melting him into a tingling release that made his thighs twitch and hands scrabble for a grip on something, anything to keep him grounded. He cried out, and as Grantaire held him through it, he managed to nuzzle his neck face against Grantaire’s warm skin, breathing hotly against it between muffled pleads and moans. Grantaire felt warmth seep between them as they lay together.

And Grantaire had thought that Enjolras could not be any more beautiful in that moment. Bliss had completely overtaken him, leaving his revered leader in a hazy glow, absent of worry or fear and only soaking in the feeling of complete content. He stroked his cheek with a careful finger, gentle, and watched as he came off of his high. Having gone back to tracing his cheekbone, he chuckled softly as Enjolras stared at him with some form of amazement. 

“I told you, these things are certainly not to be rushed.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SO SELF CONSCIOUS ABOUT POSTING THIS  
> But on another note, the prompt is from page 4 of round 4 on the Kink Meme :)


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